


Part I

by VeronikaLP



Series: You're In a Car With a Beautiful Boy [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, My first fic ever posted here yay!, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:45:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1225084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronikaLP/pseuds/VeronikaLP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part I

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever posted here and for this fandom, so please be as honest as you can be.  
> As you can guess, I got the inspiration from Richard Siken.  
> This is all Leona Lewis' fault. Bleeding Love has always been one of my favorites, and this came out of it the other day. It's the song they're listening on the background at the beginning of the fic, BTW.  
> It is unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine and mine only.  
> I obviously don't own them, because if I did, they would've already made their love canon, so, let's keep this tiny piece of fiction between you and I, yeah?  
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you won’t tell him that you love him _~~because you’re not entirely sure yet~~_ but you _~~kind of probably maybe most likely already~~ _ do.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, lovely strings of melodies and a soft yet hurt voice filling the air between you. They say she’s a mezzosoprano, but you’re not quite sure, since this whole ‘ride of your life’ started a little over a year ago, and you still have so much to learn, and you’ve had no time to adjust, to truly understand the hang of it, just rolling with the punches, doing your best and hoping for the best.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you can’t help the _‘she has an amazing voice’_ that escapes your lips, as neither can you prevent the deep pang in your chest when he smiles brightly at you and nods in agreement. _‘His smile puts the sun to shame’_ , you think curtly for the second time in that day. He was wearing the same million watt smile when you were backstage, watching her, waiting to perform your own act later.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy that softly starts to sing along, and while he’s no mezzosoprano, you like his voice better. The lilt to it, the way his accent disappears the second he starts singing, the softness around its edges. You lose yourself in his voice, tracing the patterns of his lips with your eyes, how it curves around the o’s and thins around the e’s.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and suddenly you take in account the puncture in your veins, gash wide and open and raw, and then you remember that particular song, his favorite from that band he refuses to admit out loud he enjoys the songs from, but after a year of coexistence you have caught him enough times drumming beats with the tips of his fingers on every available surface and humming under his breath to know better, and then you rely on your favorite line from that song because he’s rubbing off on you _~~and there isn’t much you can do to stop it and you wouldn’t even if you could~~_.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and your mind-to-mouth filter fails you once again when in the deep silence after the song has ended, _'for you, I'd bleed myself dry'_ escapes your lips without permission, too quiet for your mind to truly register before it’s too late, but loud enough for him to hear you, sharp whip of his head that turn brown eyes to clash with your blue.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you feel like a deer caught in the headlights, headed for execution, and then he’s flashing one of those smiles of his, more private and soft than the previous one he gave you _~~and it’s been long since you started categorizing all the gestures he makes, and it’s been almost as long since you came in terms with it too~~_.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and your heart contracts all the way, painfully so, and then snaps back full to its original size, like a rubber band gun, and the air has snapped out of your lungs, all of it, you’re sure, so how come you’re still breathing?

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, who leans over his hand to intertwine your fingers with his, blank expression now looking towards the front of the car, where all the other beautiful boys you now share your life with sit and laugh, but the corner of his mouth is turned up, and that’s another grin you have come to categorize.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you won’t tell him you’d go to the end of the world and back, to the formation of the Ursa Major, and further into the Milky Way, and into the blackest hole the universe holds, and back, always back, as long as you feel the anchor of his hand, and it’s too soon, because even with everything you still don’t know each other that well, haven’t had enough time to learn quirks and quips and pet peeves, to discover good sides and bad sides, to share good days and bad days, but the erratic beating of your heart tells you that any version of him is any version you’ll like to be with, and any side of him is any side you’ll learn to accept and love too, virtues and flaws all cramped up in one.

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you won’t tell him that you love him, but you ~~_absolutely resolutely without doubt or second thought_~~ do.


End file.
